Hark, from the budding boughs that burst of song!
And where the leagues of emerald stretch away,
How rings the meadow-lark’s ecstatic lay
And all the hills the liquid notes prolong.
...
Flashed from the arc-lit crowded street
One moment to my sight
A Face, with startled glance and fleet,
Then passed into the night.
...
Mine, to loose or to hold,
I held it, thus, in my hand.
Mine, to fetter or free-
Which should it be?
...
(Song)
Love that came in with the morning
Is fled with the night!
...
Not more removed with the long years’increase,
Through hours when storms upon thy roof of clay
Have beat, or when the blossom of the May
Has to the fettered winter smiled release, -
...
So glide the days, dear! Dawn will not delay,
Noontide will come, nor linger in its flight;
And even-time in turn must pass away
Into the darkness of a dreamless night.
...
The night comes on with a hint of tears,
The in-borne fog with the in-born tide;
And the last faint crimson disappears
Where the sunset glory died.
...
Oh, my heart, when life is done,
How happy will the hour be!
All its restless errands run:
Noontide past, and set of sun,
...
They were so light, the little dancing feet,
The little feet, such little dancing feet!
Snow-white, snow-soft, snow-light;
First feather-flakes of snow, that only play
...
O Ye laggard comers
Of the rosy summers!
Dear, delicious vagrants,
Hives of hoarded fragrance,
...